


Vicarious

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Demonic Biology, Devil Trigger Sex (Devil May Cry), F/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29992065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: It might've started as jealousy.  Her face, her body, it wasn'thers, it was just a copy of Eva's.  Human.  She liked humans.  Or, parts of humans.  Or parts of some humans.  But she wasn’t one, and as of late, it was bothering her, looking in a mirror and seeing a human face.  But Dante... he was a bit of both, and could be both.  So, that did open up some possibilities.
Relationships: Dante/Trish (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Teratophilia Trade 2021





	Vicarious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neosaiyanangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neosaiyanangel/gifts).



It was a phase. One she periodically went through. She’d get over it.

But right now, on the hunt with Dante, she could do without being distracted by her own head.

It might’ve started as jealousy. She definitely felt _that_ , envy when Lady showed up, and especially when she had met that manufactured demoness from the Vie de Marli. It was _there_ with Dante, intermixed with all sorts of things. Lust, affection, annoyance. She helped herself to his money, his home, his body—he shared everything he could with her. And… it wasn’t like she didn’t _want_ those things, she enjoyed all of it.

She just wanted something more. Something he couldn’t quite give.

She supposed her complicated feelings made sense. She was created by the Emperor of Darkness to lure and seduce him, after all. God she loathed him when she first met him, dragging him deeper and deeper in Mallet Isalnd, until he _saved_ her. And… he fell for it despite the fact she had been created in her image. And that was the problem.

Surprisingly, not for him. But for her…

Eva had to be a great woman; she was sure of that. She supposed maybe Dante had been biased—he was her son after all. A human bias. His mother carried him and his twin for nine months, then nurtured them for years. Her mother, father, progenitor, sculptor had carved her out of flesh and sinew, a trivial effort worthy of an expendable pawn.

Hm… now that she thought of that, maybe she was jealous of that, too.

But the thing that was distracting her, as they mowed demons apart in a rapid ballet of bullets and blades wasn’t really that relationship, or how Dante was created by Eva and Sparda in comparison to her. She didn’t resent humans, or demi-humans, for how their biology worked—hell, she was a fan of how it worked, all things considered.

The issue was Eva’s _face_.

Eva’s face stared at her in mirrors, drew attention at bars and clubs, was what hooked Dante when they first met and what he saw even now. She knew they had a lot more than that now, but it was still present. It wasn’t a _bad_ face, aesthetically pleasing for a human.

But it was _Eva_ ’s, not hers.

She liked humans. Or, parts of humans. Or parts of some humans.

But she wasn’t one, and as of late, it was bothering her, looking in a mirror and seeing a human face. 

On that note, she ducked underneath the rending talons of a Blade, before punching it hard enough to send it flying. That shattered the mirror in the room, that had distracted her in the first place. A swing of Sparda as the Blade attempted to get to its feet, and now it was two halves of the creature, laying atop broken glass.

“Head’s up.” Dante said, to her right. His two handguns were levelled in her direction.

Trish took a half-step back, giving him enough of a clear shot on another Blade that was to her left that he cut loose. She took another step back hefted the sword in her hand, and tossed it at him. He dropped to his knees, still firing at the reptilian demon, when her sword sailed overhead, through the torso of another one that had been approaching Dante from behind.

The sword embedded itself in the wall, pinning the demon.

The two of them made short work of the rest of the Blades, quick and ruthlessly efficient. They circled back, ending up back at the master bedroom. “Owner’s not gonna like this.”

That was Dante, hand on Sparda’s hilt. He tugged, tearing masonry free along with the sword and the demon’s corpse. Trish surveyed the carnage—demon corpses were rotting to nothingness rapidly, but that’d leave a _lot_ of stains. 

Not to mention bullet holes.

Or Slash marks.

Or electrical burns.

They were probably going to have to accept a decreased payout for this one.

“Shame, that.” She muttered, hands on hips. “Breaks my heart.”

“And my bank account.” Dante muttered. “Hm… maybe we can blame most of this on the demons.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Trish said, and Dante immediately turned around. He knew what _that_ meant. She was in the mood, often was after a fight. And she was being nice and didn’t even throw in the fact that at least _half_ of the property damage was his fault.

She was already pulling her top over her head, giving a ‘come hither’ look at Dante before pitching it over her shoulder. She kicked out of her boots, pulled her pants down, and—after shoving a bullet-riddled Blade corpse off of it, laid down on the bed.

Dante, was at the foot of the bed, eyes wide in a flash, preparing to clamber atop of it. She raised her foot, pushing him slightly back. She tutted with her tongue, and cocked her head to the side. “You didn’t burn up all your stamina in the fight, did you?”

It took an _effort_ for him to take on a demonic form. A little strain.

 _And she was jealous_.

He was half-human, but, with a little effort, could show off his father’s side of the family. Her? No matter what, she was this. A perfect replica of a beautiful woman. The writhing hellspawn underneath that skin, lightning and hate and lust and obsession, too much to fit in this form.

SO as of late, the best she could manage was to try to live vicariously.

A flash, and the handsome man before her was now a sexy devil. Black and red, leathery skin, spines, hellish luminescence underneath, shining through joints and veins. She very much didn’t mind fucking Dante in human form, but she got to touch, taste, scratch, bite something even better. 

He was on her now, wings spread wide, taloned hands digging into her skin. She hooked her arms around his neck, pulling himself close as claws raked her back. She ran a hand across his scalp, like she was tousling his hair—very deliberately she ground her palm against one of the large, backward-facing spines, savoring the pain.

Lately Dante seemed to be taking the hint she was interested in something rough, as he tightened his grip. Bony spikes along his wrist may have drawn blood as he embraced her. A hand grabbed a hold of her hair, pulling hard. 

Jealousy? An attempt to live vicariously, letting Dante fuck her as a demon to try to get in touch with that side of her. Masochism? Lust? 

All of the above?

As he blindly lined up, something hard and ridged, and utterly inhuman leaving a burning trail against her skin. She rocked her hips, helping accommodate him, hooking a leg around his waist, a split second before a steel-hard grip grasped her hip. And…

She screamed as he buried himself inside, yanked her hair. Hellish heat burned her neck as he let out a groan, a tongue against her throat. The tongue was replaced by teeth. Even more, blindingly, painfully pleasurable heat inside her. She tried to rock in time with his thrusts, but that was awkward at the angle, him gripping her so tight, and when those wings flapped and they lifted off. All she could do was hold on tight, whisper encouragements. Her teeth chattered and something electric ran down her spine. 

It was an odd feedback loop.

Dante was giving a good effort—a _great_ one. Staying in demon form wasn’t sustainable for too long. She wanted him to last longer. She could lend him a little of _her_ energy—she’d done it before, helped him banish Mundus. 

Lending him power to keep him like this?

Even more gratifying than that. 

She clawed at him, ground against him, swore at him to keep him encouraged. She wailed and moaned and came and just _willed_ him to not stop. 

She was slammed back onto the bed, facedown, clawing ruts into the already ruined pillow as a her face was shoved into the bloody mattress and Dante’s cock was shoved inside her. 

That long tongue was between her lips, she kept her legs crossed behind his head, feeling all sorts of spines poking at her thighs and a fiery burn every time Dante exhaled.

She was gagging, tasting herself mixed with something inhuman, clawed hands gripping fistfuls of her hair while she fingered herself.

Finally, she screamed when Dante exploded inside her, gripping her, digging claws inside her skin, fire burning her from the inside out. Then all to soon, hard scales gave way to soft skin, claws disappeared, and he collapsed atop him, panting like a dog.

Alas, all good things came to an end.

And one wicked thing, blonde and vicious and born in the depths of Hell came quite a few times before that. 

They lay, limbs tangled, both spent, for along while. She eventually rolled Dante off of herself—it was absolutely not intentional that she picked the wrong direction and there wasn’t any mattress to that side of her. 

Didn’t stop her from giggling.

As Dante grumbled a little without bothering to get up off the floor, she took stock. The man who hired them to clear out that mansion his occultist uncle had hired them _really_ would not be happy about the damage to the room. Or the stains. 

But maybe Dante was right. After all, all of the chaos in this bedrooms was caused by demons.


End file.
